My wife, Jenna, has never been the calmest person after a car accident.
So when she called me from a parking lot saying she had “barely bumped someone,” I already knew there was probably more to the story.
By the time I arrived, a police officer was taking statements.
Jenna was furious.
“That guy was completely distracted,” she insisted. “He was staring at his phone the whole time!”
Then she pointed toward a man nearby.
“And he was drinking a beer! Who does that around traffic?”
The officer looked at the man.
Then at Jenna.
Then back at the man.
I could tell he was trying very hard not to smile.
Jenna kept going.
“He should be the one getting a ticket.”
Finally, the officer raised his hand.
“Ma’am, I need you to understand something.”
Jenna crossed her arms.
“What?”
“He wasn’t driving.”
She blinked.
The officer pointed toward a wooden picnic table beside the parking lot.
“He was sitting there.”
I stared at Jenna.
Apparently, while backing out of a parking space, she had jumped the curb, rolled across a narrow strip of grass, and clipped the corner of the picnic table.
The man had dropped his phone and beer when the table moved.
Thankfully, nobody was injured.
There was just some damage to the table and a very embarrassed wife.
Jenna looked at me and whispered, “You’re never telling anyone about this.”
I nodded seriously.
“Absolutely not.”
Which was technically true.
I told everyone separately.
